


Dark Side of the Road

by beautifuldistress



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Coming Out, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Reality, Slow Build, Smut, or something like that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 12:56:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7618969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifuldistress/pseuds/beautifuldistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Eighteen met sixteen, blue met green and something just clicked.”</p><p>Or the one where Harry thinks a lot, Louis lies a lot and things between them might be just a bit too fucked up to ever be fixed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Side of the Road

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction. It isn't real and it doesn't reflect upon the real life people mentioned. No offence is intended. It's just silly fun since apparently I have way too much free time in my hands.

He is playing Scrabble when he comes out.

It’s his mum’s turn. And then it happens. It’s sudden and unexpected and Harry wouldn’t have it any other way.

Gemma is reading Daily Mirror, and really, she knows better. She does. But no matter how big or famous Harry is, no matter how many girls – and boys – have his face plastered on their walls, she is still his sister. And siblings were created to tease each other. According to Gemma, anyway.

“Harry Styles is ready to tie the knot? Read more about Britain’s most popular bachelor’s newest girlfriend on page thirteen,” she reads out loud, in a voice more similar to a radio host than hers. “Well, little brother before you start picking out wedding venues and baby names, the least you can do is introduce her to the family.”

“I.” Harry breathes, and then pauses. “What if it’s a he?” he asks.

And just like that it’s out – he is out.

Afterwards, Harry would blame it on the two glasses of wine he had at tea. For now though, he could only concentrate on the unusual silence that filled the room. He’s biting down on his lower lip so hard; that he can taste the metallic blood. “What if – what if I bring a lad home? Would that – would that be okay?”

“Oh baby,” Anne cries.

“I – I mean I may still bring home a girl. But just, just – I don’t know. It may be a boy. It may be a he not a she? It may um it may not? I like both, I – I promise it’s just what-”

“Harry, Harry look at me please,” Robin’s eyes are kind when they meet his own, “Harry you can bring whoever you like home, you hear me? A he, a she, whoever.”

Anne’s eyes are shining with tears, but her knowing smile reassures Harry that those are, indeed, happy tears. “Yes baby, whoever you like, whoever makes you happy. Gender is not important as long as _she_ – as long as _he_ – treats you right, it’s not important.”

“Thanks Robin, thanks mum. It – it really means a lot guys. Um thank you.”

“Stop it you goofball, stop being nervous. Stop bloody thanking us. It’s okay, yeah? There’s nothing to worry about, all right? It’s still us. You are still you. And whoever gets to have you, would be lucky – whether they’ve got a willy or a fanny in between their legs” Gemma is on him as soon as she finishes her little speech. She pinches both of his cheeks, flicks his nose and kisses his forehead with a rather dramatic, and rather loud smacking sound.

Robin shakes his head, Anne chuckles and Harry smiles so big that his cheeks hurt. He’s got tears in his eyes that are just about ready to fall. He’s overwhelmed. Not because he expected anything else from his family, but because he could finally be honest, be his true self. He finally admitted, to someone who wasn’t his own self or a pillow that he is attracted to both genders. And it felt pretty damn good.

He loses at Scrabble. All is well.

✂

He doesn’t come out to his band mates.

The timing is bad – or so he keeps telling himself. They are on tour and it’s show after show, and plane after plane. He isn’t avoiding it – per say, he isn’t – no matter what Gemma may say. He is busy. They are all busy.

There are matters far more important than Harry’s sexual orientation. He will tell them though. He promised he would. When the time is right.

But then Zayn leaves. He leaves and they find out through his lawyers. His bloody lawyers. Harry’s world is turned upside down so he writes a lot and he works out a lot and he avoids social media a lot. Mainly, though, he thinks a lot. He thinks about One Direction and he thinks about the future.

Mostly he ponders over the other four boys. He knows them. He knows what Louis sounds like in the morning, he knows what songs Liam sings in the bathroom, he knows Niall’s favourite drinks, and he knows Zayn’s favourite tattoo shops. But does he really?

He still trusts them, of course he does. He trusts Liam and Niall and Louis. He loves them all. They are brothers for life. Or at least he thought they were. He’s not sure where they, where he, stands with Zayn. He doesn’t know how you can spend almost every waking moment with someone for four years and still not know what kind of people they are.

It’s just yet another proof that you can’t trust anyone in the music industry. Not even your own band mates. The people who are supposed to have your back. No matter what.

He mentally slaps himself when he starts having those thoughts. He loves these boys to bits. He honestly, truly, one hundred per cent does. And he would entrust them with his life. He just doesn’t trust them enough to come out to them.

Or maybe it’s not a trust issue. Maybe, just maybe he’s not brave enough to be rejected, just yet. Not by the three people that mean so much to him.

His mum says that he is being silly. She’s probably right.

He only comes out to a selected few – a bunch of childhood friends, a bunch of famous friends, his cousins and aunts – all of whom he can trust. None of his friends mind. Nor does his extended family. If he is being honest with himself, and he mostly tries to be honest at least with himself, most of them were already suspecting it.

No one is shocked regarding his versatility in bed.

To most, Harry Styles being bisexual is not really a surprise. Harry doesn’t do discriminations, he loves everyone, he respects everyone. What people have between their legs – whether they get hard or wet, whether they sit down or stand up when they are having a wee – well it doesn’t make a difference to him.

Everyone is shocked that his band mates have no clue, though.

“You mean to tell me that none of them know you like it up the bum?”

“Jesus Christ, Grimmy keep it down, will you? This hotel’s walls are made out of paper.”

Nick laughs loudly, only quieting down when Harry shoots him a death glare through his computer screen. “Sorry, sorry. You are taking the piss though right? You totally are, popstar.”

“I am not. I mean I’ve been hinting on it. Maybe, maybe they know? I’m not sure; I just haven’t straight up told them. I’m not sure I will.”

“Why the fuck not? Shit H, you are basically living in each other’s pocket. They’re practically your family.”

Harry contemplates that. “Plenty of reasons,” is what he settles on.

“I’m all ears.”

“Grimmy you’ve got a show in less than half an hour.”

“Be fast then.”

“I still haven’t found the right time. That’s all.”

“Mate, you’ve basically spend every waking and sleeping moment within 20 feet from them for the last 5 years. Don’t be a tit. Get on with it.”

“Fine, fine” Harry puts up his arms, surrendering “after Zayn left, we’ve gotten closer right? But I’m being more careful. Like what if one of them decides to leave and out me?”

“That’s bullshit, H. If Zayn knew, he wouldn’t have outed you nor would the other boys. You know it, I know it, everyone knows it. Truth now. Please, H.”

“Okay. Fine. I’m fucking scared Nick. Like I know I’m probably worrying myself silly over nothing but what if they don’t accept me? What if they are okay with supporting gays and the lgbtq+ community but not a gay person within the band?” Harry chewed on his lower lip. “I know – I know Niall won’t bat an eyelid – probably. Hopefully. And I know, I hope Liam won’t have a problem but-”

“It’s Louis,” Nick pipes in making Harry sigh “it’s always fukin’ Louis, isn’t it? I called it you know. Smart cookie, me.”

“Shut up Nick.”

“But I am right, aren’t I?”

“No,” he paused “maybe. I don’t know. Louis, Louis is a nice person. A heart of gold, he has honestly but fuck Nick, he told me to tone it down, he fucking told me to tone our interactions, our banter down because of gay rumours. Bloody gay rumours. What if I come out to him and he orders a bloody restriction order against me because I’m gay or something?”

Nick smirked, “bi.”

“Whatever. Bi, yeah. But what if-”

“All I keep hearing is what if this and what if that. Risk it, H. Take a chance.”

“But what if-”

“Then he is a twat. Harry if he does as much as look down on you because of what you do in your bed then he is a major twat and I called it from day one. Look, popstar, everything will be fine yeah?” he smiled “I’ve got to go mate, but I love you ok? Take care, H. Take care of yourself.”

The Skype call ends and just like that Harry is left alone with his thoughts; the same ones every single time. Thoughts full of chocolate brown hair, blue eyes, a full bum and rejection.

Mainly of rejection.

✂

He meets Christian in Metropolitan.

One Direction is due to perform in Good Morning America in less than 6 hours; he shouldn’t be in a bar. He really shouldn’t be in a gay bar of all places.

The thing is Liam is out with his girlfriend in Times Square, Niall is out for dinner with his friends and Louis – fucking Louis – is about 6 hours away from announcing to the world his upcoming fatherhood.

No one could blame Harry for sneaking out for a drink. Besides – Metropolitan is low key enough that no one expects Harry Styles to be there. So he’s fine. He even has his farmer hat on over his bun. He’s okay. A bit tipsy, but okay.

He’s sipping on his drink – orange juice with a bit of vodka, or maybe it’s vodka with a splash of orange juice – when he feels a presence behind him. The stool’s back is low enough that the man’s bulge rests just above the dimples of Harry’s lower back. The feeling does weird stuff to his stomach. “Two tequila shots,” he calls out to the barman, he’s got a full-toned voice, even lower than Harry’s “one for me and one for pretty boy over here.”

Harry doesn’t dare to look up, “Um no,” his voice comes out raspy “I’m good thank you.”

“It’s on me,” he pauses and Harry can almost hear the smirk in his voice, “pretty boy.”

“Thank you but I can’t erm I’ve got work soon.”

“You are a polite one aren’t you?” The man leans in even more forward, reaching out for their drinks. He brings one of the shots dangerously close to Harry’s lips “lean back pretty boy. One drink won’t kill you.” He puts a slight pressure on his mandible – not enough to push Harry’s head back, but just enough to show that he can. Harry lets his head fall backwards, and parts his lips. The alcohol burns his throat.

It feels good. What feels even better though is the stranger rhythmically but slowly grinding on his lower back to the beat of All I Need by Radiohead. The stranger takes his hand off Harry’s lower jaw, only to run it down his sheer black shirt and back up again.

His dick twitches in his pants.

“Let’s go somewhere a bit quieter, shall we?” He doesn’t let Harry see him; instead he turns the stool around, letting him get off before placing his hands on the small of his back guiding him towards the very back of the club.

Harry keeps his eyes down as he sits on the booth, the man sits across him. “Polite and shy too,” the man lets out a humourless chuckle “you know you scream filthy rich from miles away. I’m not going to call the paparazzi on you, pretty boy. Don’t worry your pretty, little head off.” Harry still doesn’t dare to look up; his gaze is focused on the table in front of him. An iPhone 4 comes into focus, “Here I won’t take any pictures. Pretty boy.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh-kay, you are very thankful we’ve established that,” the man says when he realises Harry will not be elaborating. “Name’s Christian,” he extends his hand.

“Harry,” he says shaking the man’s – Christian’s – hand.

“Oh I know. I’ve got two sisters and a cousin camping out for your GMA show tomorrow – well today.”

Oh. “Oh,” he coughs, “I’m not – I’m not that unprofessional. Not usually. This is a one off. I swear. It’s been a tough day that’s all. I- I take what I do very seriously.”

“Relax; it’s all good pretty boy.”

At that, Harry looks up. He looks up, and his breath gets caught in his throat. The man starring back at him is absolutely gorgeous; tanned, blue eyed, buzz cut blond hair, stubble. “Shit,” Harry gulps, “erm I – hi.”

The man smiles, flashing two blinding white rows of teeth. “Hello to you too, pretty boy. Fancy seeing you here. ”

And well shit – Harry is in a gay bar. “Um sorry I don’t – I’m not you know.”

“Gay?”

“No. Erm yes. I’m not. I’m bi. Yeah, I’m bi” Christian furrows his eyebrows “I’m not out I mean.”

“No worries. Your secret is safe with me,” Harry looks at him weirdly, “I’m serious, like cross my heart and hope to die serious.”

Harry nods, “thanks.”

“So, you do that often? Come to a gay bar alone, that is.”

“First time - alone.”

It’s Christian’s turn to nod. The two boys sit in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. It’s half past three in the morning, according to his watch. Harry needs to go, if he wants to get even an hour of sleep. He’s supposed to be awake in less than two hours, yet he’s stuck in his seat.

He likes this – he likes having the attention of a man. He has pecked boys’ lips before, he has sat on boys’ laps, he has flirted with boys, heck, and he’s even grinded on boys on a night out back before he became a worldwide sensation. Before he started getting lectures on how you should be extra careful whom you get with, because they might sell your story to the press. Matt from Media Training has eyed him twice when he was giving that particular lesson.

All of his other encounters though never had a meaning. They never had a purpose. Harry was either too young or too sober to initiate anything other than a kiss with a lad.

This – whatever this is – has potential. Or well at least that’s what Harry thinks. Hopes.

“I want,” Christian spoke up, breaking the silence “I want to wine and dine you.”

“Pardon?”

Instead of answering, Christian gets up from his place on the booth and sits next to Harry, their thighs touching. “I said,” his lips ghosted over Harry’s ear “I want to wine and dine you. I do, but” he nibbles on Harry’s lobe placing one hand on his upper thigh “I also want to fuck you, I want to fuck you until you beg me to stop. Until you cry. Will you let me, pretty boy?”

Harry shivers, his eyes closing without his permission.

“Hmm? Will you?” Christian’s hand creeps up higher, his palm pressing against Harry’s clothed cock. “Fuck. You are getting so worked up for me already. So pretty, so fucking pretty Harry.” Maybe, it’s because it’s the first time Christian said his name out loud, but Harry’s moan is filthy; it’s raw, loud and plain filthy.

“We can’t,” Harry, breathes. Christian’s mouth is now on his arm lightly biting and nibbling on the skin there.

“Boyfriend?” his blows on the skin he’s been nibbling on.

“No, uh no,” Harry’s hips buckle upwards as Christian starts palming him firmly “show, I’ve got a show in less, in less than two hours.”

“Perfect. Come on,” Christian smiles. He leads him to an empty bathroom stall, away from the loud music and curious bystanders. “So here’s how it’s going to go, you are gonna suck me. You are gonna suck me off and let me come on that curly hair of yours. And then if you are good, I’ll let you come. Okay, pretty boy?” He grabbed Harry’s hat, throwing it carelessly on the floor.

Harry doesn’t know what does it, he doesn’t but his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Harry, is it okay?”

“Yes, fuck yes.”

The confirmation is all Christian needs to push his trousers and pants down in one go, his cock springing free. He sits on the toilet seat and Harry kneels, shuffling closer to him. Once he is close enough, Christian uses his legs to hug him, effectively locking him in between them, the heels of his shoes pressing on Harry’s bum.

“You can use your hands. We don’t want to wreck your voice. Not tonight.”

Harry starts out slowly. He kisses the head of Christian’s cock; he runs his tongue along the thick vein on the underside and sucks on his balls. He wants, he needs to be good.

When Harry finally takes his cock in his mouth, Christian rewards him with a light kick on the bum. Harry moans, low and dirty.

“You like that, don’t you pretty boy? Of course you do. You love being manhandled.” He grabs Harry’s bun, roughly forcing him off his cock, “you are such a slut for me. Go on beg, for it. Beg me to let you suck my cock.”

Harry moves his head, mouth open wide trying to get Christian’s dick back into his mouth. Christian chuckles darkly, gripping his cock and using it to gently smack Harry on the cheek; first on his right one, then on his left, smearing pre cum all over them.

“Let me hear your pretty voice, Harry. Let me hear just how much you want me. Just how much of a slut you are for me.” His grip on Harry’s hair tightens, keeping the younger boy in place, his erection barely an inch away from his lips.

“Please,” Harry begs, his lips touching Christian’s cock as they move, “please let me suck you off. I – I wanna be good for you. Please.”

“Go on, pretty boy. Make me cum.” The blond slides in, filling Harry’s mouth. Harry sucks until his knees start to hurt and his own cock, still tucked inside his pants, feels like it’s gonna explode.

He’s been reduced to a hot mess, whining and whimpering with every move, by the time Christian speaks, “I’m close. Shit.” Harry stops, letting the other man’s cock out of his mouth and using his hand to start jerking him off, over his head. “Yeah that’s it pretty boy, let me cum on your hair, let me paint you fucking white.”

Harry, opens his eyes “cum on me. Please,” he whimpers.

Maybe it’s the begging, or maybe it’s Harry’s green eyes locking with his own. He doesn’t know what it is, but with a shaky moan Christian comes. Smears of cum, splashing all over Harry’s hair and forehead.

“You’ve been so good for me, such a good boy – such a dirty little whore for me.”

And then Harry comes. He comes in his pants, like a preteen who just discovered porn. “Fuck did you just…?” Christian gestures, letting out a throaty laugh.

“I swear this never happened to me before,” Harry groans once he regulates his breathing.

“Maybe not,” Christian says “but it can happen again, if you’d let me.”

Harry blushes. He hopes Christian won’t notice. (He does).

✂

Niall whistles when he sees him.

“Shit mate, who attacked you?” It’s Liam who speaks up first. Sophia and Lottie burst out in giggles, grabbing Louis’ attention from where Lou is fixing his hair. For a second, Harry could have sworn Louis’ eyes widened, but then again he hadn’t slept in over a day; his own eyes must have been fooling him.

“Um yeah,” he starts sheepishly, inspecting his right forearm where Christian had left half a dozen of love bites, “I brought a jacket.” He raises his right hand to show that he is indeed, carrying the said clothing item with him. He’d been looking for an excuse to wear that Saint Laurent jacket with the epic tiger versus eagle battle on it, anyway. Even in the roasting weather of New York City.

“Where have you been, you dickhead? Dale was worried sick! Me, as well. Alone in New York City at fuck o’clock in the morning, what were you thinking?”

“Sorry, mummy Louise.” Harry knows he’s being short with Lou but there are at least eight pairs of eyes on him; he couldn’t flat out say ‘oh you know I was in a bar, a gay one mind you. I also had a dick down my throat not even forty minutes ago. How did you sleep?’

Niall places a reassuring hand on his shoulder, giving their hairdresser the best smile he could manage. “Now, now settle down, Lou. By the looks of it, the lad had fun. He’s got all four of his limbs attached to his body, he’s mighty fine.”

“Yeah I’m fine,” he grins “and by the way I’ve got someone coming in, in a bit. Hope you lads, don’t mind?”

“Yeah, sure mate it’s cool.”

“Thanks Li-”

“Already bringing in your new flavour of the week, Harold? Not tired of this one yet?”

“Louis,” Johanna hisses; her voice laced with warning.

Harry though, shakes his head. Not even Louis lashing out at him could bring him down. Not today. “It’s a mate actually. He’s from here and we made plans to meet. Figured it would be easier, if he waits backstage.” He’s not necessarily lying. Twisting the truth, maybe. But not lying.

“Whatever.”

Harry is just about to answer back to Louis – and it wouldn’t have been pretty – when his phone vibrates.

_All right, the security guy let me in. Now where do I go?_

**Are you backstage? Can you see a door with a ‘One Direction – dressing room’ sign on it? x**

_No. But the security guard is looking at me suspiciously._

**Stay where you are. I’ll send someone to get you. x**

_Good boy._

**Always sir. ;) x**

_Dork. I’ll be there in a minute._

**I am not out yet. You know.**

_I know. I’ll behave myself._

Christian walks in, a second after Louis’ family and Sophia walked out. Two seconds later, Harry is hugging him; tight and nice. Christian is taller than Harry by a good three inches; his body more masculine compared to Harry’s more boyish figure.

It was different. It was so much different than hugging the boys, or his mates. And Harry could get used to different.

“Hello pretty boy,” Christian’s words were so quiet – only meant for Harry and no one else.

“Good to see you again,” Harry pulls away suddenly very aware – and very cautious – of the other three boys in the room. “Right. Christian meet the boys, boys meet Christian.”

“I’m Niall, mate. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Liam. Pleasure.”

Louis gives Christian a one over. His nose scrunches up, “We are late,” he says halfway out of the door, already. The two other boys following suit.

“Is he always that much of an asshole or just on days ending with y?”

“Sorry, that’s Louis” Harry sighs “he’s had a rough year, don’t mind him.”

“Give me a kiss and I forget all about him.”

“Stay here, it shouldn’t take long. Less than an hour, we can do something after,” Harry says quickly before pecking him on the lips. Once. Twice. Three times.

Christian could only nod.

He smacks Harry’s bum as he is leaving and if Harry spotted a semi throughout the whole show well – no one would ever know.

✂

“Do you really enjoy it?”

“Do I enjoy what, sorry?” Harry wonders before throwing himself on the king sized bed of his room in yet another five star hotel.

Good Morning America was a blur. A lot of fans had turned up – that never ceased to surprise him – there even were a few boys in the crowd. Harry had managed to hit all of his high notes. Louis confirmed on national live television that he would become a daddy soon.

The Earth didn’t stop turning.

Everything went smoothly – more or less.

“The job – you know. Being treated like – well dunno – but definitely not like a human being with rights and feelings, and a personal space.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wouldn’t want anyone touching me without my permission; I wouldn’t want people screaming at me like I’m a caged animal. And those fan signs. God. Those girls were probably not even legal and those signs they were holding were shocking. To say the least.”

“You get used to it; plus it’s not like that in our shows. Not anymore, anyway. The audience is a bit more mature,” Harry shrugs. That’s all he has to say on the matter, anyway. Some celebs spend every free minute they have complaining about their job. Harry never does. He knew what he was signing up for when he enter The X Factor. He doesn’t think it’s fair to complain, not with how lucky they’ve been. “Do you mind if I get out of my clothes? It’s too hot in here, and my jeans are way too tight,” he changed the subject.

Christian licked his lips, “not one bit, pretty boy. Not one bit.”

“Than-” Harry didn’t even get to finish his sentence when in two long strides Christian was right in front of him, a hand stretched out to help him up. He accepts the hand, offering the taller man a toothy, dimpled smile.

Once Harry is on his feet, Christian’s body slams against him, the force causing the shorter boy to fall back to the bed. This time, Christian is right on top of him. “But why would you do that, when I can help you get out of them,” he licks his lips using his hands to push himself up in a sitting position; his bum flashed on Harry’s crotch.

His lips are on Harry’s collarbone before his shirt could touch the ground. Harry places his hands on Christian’s thigh, squeezing slightly, “no more,” he breaths out “no more love bites. Please, management will have my head.”

He straddles Harry’s thighs. “Such a good, obedient boy aren’t you? Doing whatever management tells you. Doing whatever I tell you. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To have someone telling you what to do,” he moves onto his trousers next, unzipping them and lowering them just below his bum. “Shit you really don’t need much to get you going, do you? Just like fucking teenager.”

“Sorry. God I’m sorry,” Harry mumbles, embarrassed by how hard he was already, “sorry I’m a complete novice.” He didn’t mean it to come out so sincere. But it did.

With eyes wide opened, Christian climbs off him. “Damn it Harry, you are a fucking virgin?”

Alarmed, Harry sits up straight, “no, of course not.” Christian rises his eyebrows “I’m not a virgin, I swear. I’ve had sex before.”

“Oh have you?” His tone is mocking.

“Yes. Yes Christian, I have,” he chews on his lower lip, “just not with men.”

“Not with men,” Christian repeats slowly.

Harry nods, “not with men.”

“Last night – shit – last night; that was your first time giving a blowie wasn’t it?” Harry looks down. “Shit Harry. I called you a fucking slut. You could have said something. Damn it.”

“I’m not – I mean. I didn’t mind. I don’t mind,” he inhales deeply “I like it.”

“Still,” Christian murmurs, “You could have said something. You should have. Your first time giving someone a head shouldn’t have been in a toilet stand in Metropolitan of all places. It shouldn’t have been that aggressive either. God, I feel like such an ass.”

“Don’t. Sorry. It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I just – I didn’t want you to leave because I was inexperienced.”

“I wouldn’t have. I wasn’t just looking for a quick fuck, you know. I told you I wasn’t.” Christian lets out a long sigh. “Are you tired? You’ve gone soft,” he notes after a few minutes of complete silence that’s not quite comfortable but not awkward either.

“I’m sleepy,” as if on cue, Harry yawns. “Sorry. I haven’t slept in over a day. I can still get you off, though.”

“We could take a nap, you know. I could use one myself.”

“You don’t mind?” he asks surprised.

Smiling softly Christian bends down, placing a small kiss on Harry’s lips. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted to wine and dine you, Harry. I don’t only want sex. I want to get to know you. Only if you want to, too, of course.”

Harry runs his tongue over his upper lip, “I’d like that very much.”

“Good, budge over now, pretty boy. Let’s get some sleep.”

Harry is happy to obey.

✂

Harry woke up a few hours later. Hands that were too big were wrapped around his torso. Hair that was too light was tickling his shoulder. The man behind him smelled of apple scented shampoo and freshly brewed coffee and not like hairspray and expensive cologne.

When he closed his eyes again; he dreamt of small hands and hairspray.

✂

Like Venus and Mars, Harry and Louis are polar opposite.

Louis is loud, Harry is quiet. One is spontaneous, the other is self-conscious. Perhaps it was the way they grew up; one was raised in a huge household full of bubbly girls and screaming babies, the other was brought up in a smaller house with an older sister and a mother who liked peace and silence. On their days off, Louis enjoyed partying whereas Harry preferred staying in, opting to catch up with friends in someone’s flat rather than go clubbing. Harry thinks – maybe a bit too much – about the consequences of his action, Louis almost never does.

But somehow, they hit it off from the word go.

Eighteen met sixteen, blue met green and something just clicked. They wouldn’t go as far as saying that all of the planets aligned – but most of them must have had.

Louis took Harry under his wing. He taught him how to have a thicker skin, how to not let meaningless comments and jealous remarks get to him. No one teased Harry because if they did they would have Louis to explain themselves to and although he was against violence he was the master of pranks. No one wanted to end up being ridiculed on live television, so no one bother Harry. Louis was proud to say that by the time they left the X Factor – all teary eyed and lost – he had managed to corrupt the younger boy. The soon to be seventeen year old had a glitch of mischievousness in his eyes that was not there six months prior.

In return, Harry was Louis’ rock. He was always there to keep him grounded. Louis felt safe when he was with Harry, he felt like he could let his guard down without being judged. And he wasn’t. Harry never judged him; he loved Louis’ vulnerable side just as much as he loved his loud self. Harry was good at reading people, and Louis loved that. He loved how well Harry knew him; he loved having a friend as understanding and kindhearted as Harry.

Harry’s and Louis’ friendship was sacred and rare. They knew it. They embraced it. They flaunted it.

And then America happened.

Columbia records, their recording label in the States stood firm from the start; no British band has and no British band will have a big break in America without all of its members being portrayed as straight as a stick. In the words of Steve Barnett’s team, “Larry Stylinson has to stop. Not today, not tomorrow, but yesterday.”

At the beginning, they laughed. Harry and Louis were not together, their friendship was strictly platonic. Sure, they touched each other a bit more than they should have had – and perhaps a tad more intimately, as well – and they gazed at each other perhaps for a beat too long. But they’ve never kissed, they’ve never gotten each other off, they’ve never been anything more than friends.

They didn’t even like boys.

“Friends don’t act like that,” Steve Barnett had said, showing them footage from The X Factor “friends don’t pretend to make out, friends don’t give each other’s hickeys, they don’t grope each other’s asses. And most certainly, friends don’t have crushes on each other, Mr. Styles. I don’t know what your definition of Friendship is, but it doesn’t seem to be the same one as the one here.” He paused. For dramatic purposes. “I am not gonna lie to you boys. You have a shot here. But you need to work with me.”

Harry had tried every excuse in the book, from ‘it’s just banter,’ to whining that it’s ‘really, really bloody unfair, for god’s sake we’re not your pawns!’ All was in vain.

Throughout the whole thing Louis remained silent. And if anything, that’s what had hurt Harry the most - the silence.

Truth be told, it was useless, every argument, every excuse were useless. Everything was useless. Deep down, Harry was very aware that his refusal was just delaying the inevitable. The record label had already made up its mind; the other boys were silently begging them to just go along with it, Louis was in his own little world, giving Harry a tight-lipped smile at most. And Harry, well Harry felt like it was him against everyone else, he felt like he was the only one who was trying, the only one who _cared_ enough to protect their friendship.

“You’ll both be fine baby, this won’t affect your friendship; it will just change the way the public sees you.” His mother paused, “Harry,” she breathed “Harry this is a big deal – this is _the_ real deal. This is America. And you actually have a shot my love. You can actually make it big; you’ve got to at least try. Please – please make the right choice,” Anne sighed, “this can change your life Harry – this can change _our_ life.”

Even over the phone, Harry could hear the desperation in his mum’s voice. He couldn’t blame her. To every artist in the world, making it in America was the dream of a lifetime. America meant money, it meant luxury, it meant providing for himself and giving back to his family.

The States meant everything.

It was definitely not an easy choice to make. It was far from that. From the day they first met, Harry’s body always seemed to lean towards Louis’; their movements were always in sync.

In the first few interviews in the States, Harry tried. He tried to control his body movements, his touches; he tried to lean away from Louis rather than towards him. When he looked back at those videos, his body language screamed awkward, too unnatural. It seemed rehearsed.

Harry absolutely hated it. He had never looked more miserable - at least not since he met Louis - than in the moment his hand had itched towards Louis’ kneecap but he had to force it on his instead. Everyone (and their grandmas, especially _his_ grandma) who had known Harry before the X Factor they could tell you that he never looked happier than he did as he stood next to Louis. He had never felt happier either. It was strange how much Louis had grown on him, and how much he had grown to love and cherish that bubbly lad.

It was also strange that said lad could both make him and break him in a second.

All it took was two sentences to bring Harry’s world upside down. There were two sentences – two damn sentences – and Louis didn’t even stop to say them. No. Instead he turned his head over his shoulder, half his body already inside his hotel room just as Harry was unlocking his.

“Oi mate, let’s tone it down a little bit, yeah? We’re not queer.”

It all went downhill from then on.

Harry cried. He cried alone in his hotel rooms in a foreign country with a pillow as his only companion. He cried in the shower because he was seventeen and any kind of rejection seemed like it was the end of the world. He cried because of Louis teasing tone when he said the word queer. Three weeks later, he bought a leather brown diary, and on the very first page he wrote down those same two sentences and scribbled over them. Once, twice, fifty times – like that would make his mind and heart erase them as well.

Then he cried some more.

✂

The thing is, Harry is a terrible liar.

He blames it on his eyes. Whenever he lies his eyes dilate and fidget. He can’t look at anyone straight in the eyes, opting to look away or down instead and keeps on blinking. It’s a curse, really. He keeps on stuttering and shifting from side to side and his micro-expressions (his frowns and lip biting) are a dead giveaway.

All in all, Harry can’t lie to save his life. His media trainers gave up on him after the first couple of lessons, and started teaching him how to bend the truth and direct the question in another direction instead.

He can’t lie so he doesn’t lie and he makes sure Christian is aware of that. “I can’t lie,” he says in the middle of their seventh date. They’ve known each other for three weeks now, and even Harry himself is surprised as to how well they’ve been making it work so far. Especially considering how out of seven dates they’ve had so far over half of them, including this one, were over Skype.

“You can’t lie,” Christian repeats skeptically. “You can say no, you know. I’m twenty nine, not nine I won’t get butt-hurt.”

“Yeah well I don’t want to say no, I don’t. I really want to say yes Christian I just wanna be clear with you,” he breathes “I’m a terrible liar. I won’t be able to keep this a secret.”

Christian stretches his arm that’s holding his phone, so Harry can see a bit more of him. It’s night time – both in New York City where Christian is and in Ohio - so he can’t make out much more than the blurry form of the older man, the crappy quality of Christian’s iPhone 4 front camera doesn’t help the situation either. “I’m not asking you to keep a secret, pretty boy. I’m asking you to be my boyfriend.”

A sigh escapes Harry’s lips, “What am I supposed to tell the boys? Or my family?”

“Your family knows. You can tell your little crew as well H, come on stop trying to find excuses,” Christian sounds tired.

“My family just knows that I am bi, but it’s not them I’m worried about; it’s the boys. They keep on asking about you; keep on pressing to tell them who I am texting and calling and skyping with,” he bites his lower lip, “so yes. I’m a terrible liar.”

Before answering, Christian seems to be considering his words, “you seem to have been doing a fine job so far,” he ends up saying.

“I haven’t been _lying_ to them. I’ve been telling them that it is a friend, that you are a friend – and technically that’s what you have been,” Harry glares “I wasn’t lying.”

“All right, pretty boy” Christian smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes “do all of your friends know what your cum tastes like? Or am I an exception?” Harry is sure his cheeks have a similar color to that of a tomato – if not brighter. He doesn’t talk; he doesn’t know what to say so he just looks down, fiddling with the sheets of the bed. “Look H, if it makes you that uncomfortable I’m gonna drop it. I just want to understand, I want to understand how you have no problem putting your fingers up the blond one’s nostrils but you can’t tell him – or any of them for that matter – that you are attracted to men,” he paused letting his words sink in, “just help me understand, sweetheart. What are you so scared of?”

“I’m not scared,” Harry murmurs.

“You ain’t fooling anyone babe.”

Harry lets his hand brush through his hair – a nervous habit he has picked up over the years. “Okay,” he finally admits, “okay maybe I am a bit scared. The thing is – The thing is that I shouldn’t be. I _know_ I shouldn’t be scared. There’s no reason for me to be. I know that, I do. But I can’t help it you know? I can’t help feeling that they’ll treat me differently, that they’ll shy away from me just because I like what they have between their legs,” his voice is shaky, “I’m sorry, I just don’t want things to change. I’ve had enough changes this past year to last for a lifetime. I don’t want my sexual preferences to affect the band; I don’t want them to hate me.”

“Have they ever given you any reason, have they ever hinted at being homophobic, H?” Christian’s voice came out soft, “have they?”

“No, no they haven’t. I mean maybe? I don’t know,” he answers quietly. Christian motions with his hand to carry on, so he does, “Liam, well Liam has made a few unnecessary comments. Though I think they were more of careless slips rather than homophobic remarks. Niall hasn’t shown any signs, at least I don’t think he has, he’s the most laid back out of all of them.”

“What about the other one? Lewis was it?”

“Louis,” Harry corrects immediately, “um Louis has been giving off both good and bad vibes. I don’t know though. I know none of them are homophobic. I’d put my finger on it. I just don’t know how they are going to react to having a bi band mate. I don’t want it to be weird; One Direction is already walking on a thin line as it is.”

“It doesn’t have to be weird. It truly doesn’t, Harry, not unless you make it,” Harry shrugs. “You know H, when I first came out to my best friend. Finley, remember? I brought him along to your concert in MetLife,” Harry nods “anyway. When I first came out to him, we didn’t speak for a year. He had caught me kissing some boy in a club, took one good look at me, shook his head and walked out. I never tried to reach out to him. I was too scared to. I was scared that I had disgusted him. I thought he’d think I had a crush on him just because he was a boy too, that I’d look at him inappropriately all those times he had stripped off in front of me. I was so scared Harry, I was terrified of all my fears being confirmed so I just never tried to get in touch with him. Until one day, we randomly bumped into each other at a wedding. Did you know how stupid I felt when I realized he was scared too?” Christian let out a humorless chuckle; “he was scared that he hadn’t been a good friend to me, that he had somehow disappointed me and make me unable to trust him. It sounded absolutely ridiculous to me, but he wasn’t appalled by me. He was just hurt I didn’t tell him sooner, H.”

“Shit.”

“Shit doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Christian closed his eyes for a minute and shook his head as if he was reliving the moment; “all I am saying is that they are your friends Harry, you trust them. Who you like to have sex with is none of their business and it sure as hell won’t make them love you any less. And if it does, well H, that would say more about what kind of people they are rather than you.”

Harry was at a loss of words for several minutes, “wow. Thanks, thank you Christian.”

“No need to thank me you goof,” his smile did reach his eyes this time, “I’m just saying better tell them sooner rather than later. And best to start with, erm Niall you said? The laid back one.”

“Yes, erm the blond one,” Harry elaborates because he is perfectly aware that Christian only ever bothered to learn his name. ‘It’s the curls! That’s why I even knew your name when we met – the curls drew me in,’ Christian had confessed once, as they were lying side by side in yet another hotel room’s bed ‘and your lips, of course. So sinful, they were made for sucking cock, pretty boy but I couldn’t tell my sister that, could I?’ Christian had sucked him off then – he blushes at the memory.

If Christian noticed him blushing he didn’t let it show, “yes! That one! Just take him aside and tell him Harry. Do it as soon as possible too. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Harry smiles fondly, “I’m so fucking glad I met you Christian. I’m so fucking glad.”

“Thanks pretty boy. I do the best I can.”

“You are ridiculous.”

“And you are delicious,” Christian licks his upper lip “because it rhymes.”

“Idiot,” Harry sticks his tongue out.

“Dork.”

“Yes.”

Christian tilts his head and furrows his eyebrows “Um yes?”

“Yes Christian,” Harry paused for dramatic effect, “I will be your boyfriend.”

“Fuck yes,” Christian fist bumped the air.

At that point, Harry’s dimpled smile could cure cancer.

✂

He tells Niall the next day.

Like most things in his life, it happened unexpectedly but just at the right time. He’s been planning on coming out to the boys for a while, even before his conversation with Christian. He just couldn’t find the right time.

Nowadays though, it seemed like the entire universe was working in his favour.

They had been in the hotel’s gym for an hour or so. For Harry it was abs day, whereas Niall was doing legs. They rarely ever talked, although they always enjoyed working out together. It’s yet another habit they picked up on the road. Working out keeps both of the boys grounded. It gives them a sense of normality throughout their chaotic life, because even if the hotels are different, and no room is identical to the previous one, the gym is always there.

Luckily enough, there was no other person in the gym. Mark had stepped out to take a call and it was too early for any of the other guests to even be awake, let alone working out. Early morning sessions in the gym were a blessing – there was no fear of getting photographed by teen girls in skinny jeans and hills with three layers of makeup on their face who were pretending to exercise.

Niall was sipping on his water when Harry’s phone vibrated, “Eh mate, can you see who it is for me?”

Nodding, Niall grabbed his phone “um mate? Who is Christian? And why is his displaying picture a man sleeping on what seems to be your chest? If those sparrows are anything to go by…?”

With eyes wide open and one leg bend on his stomach, Harry stopped midway through his second circuit of ab bikes, “Shit what.”

“I think you’ve heard me, Harry lad.”

Harry takes his sweet time to get up, and pretends to stretch for a minute too long. “I meant to tell you,” he starts.

“Oh did you?”

He sighs, “Yes, Niall I did.”

“Right. Go on then.”

“Anyway,” Harry emphasizes, “I meant to tell you for a while now but the timing was never right. Um right yeah. And okay here goes everything I guess” he exhales, “I’m kinda, erm, bi?”

“You’re bi?”

“Yea?”

Niall starts nodding his head nonstop, “you’re bi?” he repeats.

Harry takes in a shaky breath, “Um. Erm yea? I am bi - as in bisexual?”

“Are you telling me or asking me?”

“No, no. I’m telling you. I’m definitely, one hundred per cent bisexual.”

“As in you like dicks?”

The sigh that escapes Harry’s lips is perhaps a bit too exasperated, “As in I like both girls and guys. Equally.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Niall shrugs, “yes okay.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fucking it? You’re not gonna yell at me? You’re not gonna tell me it’s wrong?” Harry shakes his head, “you won’t tell me to think about the band? That being bi won’t help our sales?”

Scratching his head, Niall shoots an odd look at the younger boy, “Harry, mate, do you want me to not be okay with it?”

“No – no of course not. I was so bloody worried Niall you have no idea,” he allows himself to lay flatly on the floor, finally relaxing “you have absolutely no fucking idea how worried I was about you guys finding out. I was half convinced you were gonna throw me out of the band.”

“You’re fucking sick in the head you twat that’s what you are. I could care less about where you like to get your dick into,” Niall pauses “or in this case where you put your bumhole on. As long as you are being safe, you know wrap your willy don’t be silly and all those bullshit that comes with safe sex.” Speechless as he was, Harry could only smile and nod. “So, the lad in the picture?”

“He’s my erm, my boyfriend?”

“Once again,” Niall run a hand through his dyed blond hair, “are you asking me or telling me?”

“Telling you.”

“Good. Do go on, now.”

“You’ve met him before actually - twice. Backstage in GMA and also in MetLife. Remember? He’s the tall blond one.”

Niall makes his way over to the treadmill, setting it on the right pace before he hops on. “The one you hugged a lot, right?”

“That’s the one, yeah.”

“Where would you find him? Is he from the industry? He seems nice enough.”

“We met in a bar actually.” Harry stands up on his feet, making his way to where his phone had been left on the table. “He’s a cab driver in New York City, he’s cool too. A right catch, he is.”

“Good then Styles,” Niall says sincerely “I’m fucking happy for you, mate honestly. It’s about time you found someone to treat you all proper and nice. God knows you deserve it.”

“Thanks, Niall. It means everything.”

They spend a few minutes in silence. Harry feels a wave of relief passing through his body. Out of all the ways he had played this day in his head, this was by far the best-case scenario. He could not be any happier.

“So,” Niall says after a few minutes, “do you top or bottom? Personally, I think you bottom but I’ve never been too good at this game.”

Harry flips him off. “Shut up.”

✂

Liam is not a bad guy. Harry knows that much.

They have travelled the world together, they’ve been to places, and they’ve seen things only a selected few have. Harry and Liam, and all the boys of One Direction, have been through a hell lot together. After spending half a year living with someone in a room too small to fit two people let alone five and four plus years travelling everywhere with them you can’t not know them inside out. So yes. Harry knows Liam and Liam is a decent guy. A great guy, even.

Frankly, Harry didn’t know anyone else like Liam. The boy (man?) is a huge walking teddy bear. His heart could fit in the whole world. Out of all of the boys, Liam is the serious one, the responsible one but also the one Harry could always count on to have fun. Throughout One Direction’s life, Liam has been everyone’s shoulder to cry on, the listening ear to tell all their worries to. They used to call him Daddy Direction and it was not for nothing – he truly was a Daddy, he even got the beard and buzz cut hair to prove it. Although he was always up to partying and clubbing, Liam still had an aura of responsibility.

He only had one downside; he lacked a brain to mouth filter.

Often, he’d say stuff – totally harmless stuff – that didn’t sound quite as good out loud as they did in his brain. For that, he was often misjudged. Harry though knew him enough to know that he meant no harm. He never meant to offend anyone; he never meant to upset anyone. But he truly did need to work on his word vomit.

Harry whimpered on Christian’s naked chest, “I feel awful.” He didn’t know why he felt like that – well he did, deep down he did. But it wasn’t that Liam reacted badly or rudely. He had just voiced Harry’s worries and concerns, reducing Harry in an absolute mess.

“He’s an arse baby. Pay him no attention,” Christian rubbed up and down Harry’s upper back, attempting to soothe him.

Harry breathed, “He’s not though,” Christian tried to shush him, “no Christian, he isn’t. He only said out loud what I was so afraid to.”

“He could have been a bit politer, don’t you think? What kind of friend – what kind of _brother_ – would ever tell you to hide what you are feeling?”

“He di-”

“Thank God you are not gay then. You can still like girls, dear God Harry you really had me worried there,” Christian mimicked Liam. “He cares more about money and sales than he does about you, H. Welcome to reality, pretty boy.”

Attempting to get up, Harry was lightly pushed back down by Christian’s hand on the side of his head. He let out a small breath on the place where his boyfriend’s neck met his collarbone, “I know Liam, Christian. He didn’t mean to.”

“He still did,” the older man argues, “don’t even try to pretend you are not hurt. Just don’t. You didn’t fly me over to fucking Detroit just to cuddle H.”

“I just, I only wanted –”

“You wanted someone to understand you, to get you. I know Harry, I do. It just gets on my last nerve that you, and I quote, you fucking understand where he is coming from. Unquote. Heaven only knows, why I haven’t given him a black eye yet. Hey don’t laugh, I’m serious.”

Giggling, Harry hides his head further into Christian’s neck. “You wouldn’t stand a chance,” he mumbles, “He’s a boxer - Liam. His headlocks are the shit. And anyway he apologized, he feels bad. It’s just that I feel bad too. I’ve got this sinking feeling in my stomach because he’s right you know; gay won’t sell,” he takes in a shaky breath, “and it’s not just my career I have to think about. Three other guys and hundreds of people in the crew will be affected too.”

Christian chuckles, or so Harry assumes from his chest vibrations, “No one is gonna stop coming to your concerts because you like boys Harry. For God’s sake you haven’t even come out to the public yet. Plus I’ve been to your concerts; do you know how many rainbow flags and gay couples I saw?” he paused “the audience was mature – at least most of it. Do you really think all those twenty, thirty, even forty year olds are naïve enough to believe they have a chance with you? I don’t quite believe they are so naïve. I honestly don’t.” He shifted so he was lying sideways on the bed, his lips only inches away from Harry’s, “they are there because you, pretty boy, you and your music and those other three, make them happy.” He kisses Harry sweetly and softly, “you are a hero to them, pretty boy. Even if you are into dirty talk,” he teases.

Harry whines softly, “I’m sorry;” he whispers “I’m sorry for being so childish and so easily hurt. I’m so, so sorry.” He kisses his boyfriend’s lips, once, twice, ten times. “I’m so fucking glad I met you, even if your feet smell.”

Laughing loudly, Christian straddles Harry pinning his arms above his head, “ah is that so now?”

“Yes,” the younger boy replied cheekily.

Christian lied down on top of Harry so they were chest to chest, their groins also touching. The only thing separating them was the thing material of their boxers. “Well, pretty boy you are going to get it,” he immediately pushes his hips forward, rubbing against Harry. He attaches his lips on Harry’s collarbone, starting to suck what he hoped would be a purple bruise on the sensitive skin.

Harry’s hands travel down the length of Christian’s back before letting them rest right on the bottom of his spine. His huge fingers spread across the other man’s butt cheeks, his palms pushing his bum down to get some much needed friction. He moans as Christian brings a hand up to his left nipple, grabbing it between his thumb and index finger before twirling it. “God, fuck.”

“It’s Christian to you.”

“You,” he hums between breaths, “you are so,” he takes in a sharp breath as Christian bit down on his neck, “fucking cheesy.”

“Yet you are already so fucking hard for me.” He kisses up and down his chest, focusing on his belly button after Harry lets out an embarrassingly loud moan the first time he licked him there; his fingers never stopped teasing his nipples. “Hey pretty boy?” Christian asks him suddenly.

“Yeah?” Christian pushed himself up, coming face to face with a sweaty, wide-eyed Harry “I wanna finger you,” he whispered in his ear, one hand supporting him the other softly palming Harry, “may I finger you, Harry?”

Harry tilts his head up, letting out a groan. “Y-yes” he stutters “please. Yes.”

“Ah, so polite pretty boy, so fucking polite” Christian chuckles, «tell me have you ever fingered yourself? Have you ever felt how tight you are down there?”

“N-no,” he puffed, “yes, I – I, fuck Christian – fuck I tried but I couldn’t, shit.”

“Nah-ah, pretty boy such a foul mouth on you.” Christian got up, searching through his jeans’ pocket for the lube for two good minutes before joining Harry on the bed again. He kisses Harry’s hard cock and teases his balls before he starts pushing one lubed finger inside Harry.

The sensation was strange, just a tiny bit uncomfortable but it didn’t hurt nor did it feel anything besides strange for Harry. Perhaps that was because it was his first time or because Christian’s index finger wasn’t even one third inside of him. It was still intimate though – there was something really intimate about having a man above him, touching Harry’s most vulnerable place.

“Just wait,” Christian promised “just wait until I find your prostate, you are gonna fucking love it, pretty boy.” Harry never found out if his promise was true, because in the midst of it all, neither of them heard the door quietly opening, nor did they notice the caramel haired lad standing in shock at the doorway; mouth agape and blue eyes wide open. Only when he spoke up, did they notice that a pale Louis was right there, in the room with them, in the very same room, at the very same time Christian was two fingers deep inside Harry’s ass.

“Shit, are you a fucking faggot Harry!?” 


End file.
